Cough Syrup
by Eponime
Summary: A drabble about Blaine's relationship with cough syrup (the medicine, though the idea came from the song). Very fluffy! Contains cute baby Blaine and grown-up Klaine. COMPLETE


Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Cough Syrup

Blaine suddenly surfaced from the deep waters of his sleep. He didn't know why he was awake; he wasn't even aware of having woken up. All Blaine knew was that the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock told him that it was 12:56. In the morning. Although, as Blaine was only seven years old, this time seemed to him to be extremely late at night.

He curled up his small, Toy Story pyjama-dressed body into a tight ball, like a frightened slater, and huddled under his heavy doona.

'_Go back to sleep,'_ Blaine willed himself, '_just go back to sleep.' _

But it was hard to fall asleep when your chest felt like it had a particularly heavy cat sitting on it, and your throat itched incessantly like a mosquito bite. But mosquito bites were better, because you could scratch them. You couldn't scratch inside your throat. And to make matters worse, the itch was only on one side of Blaine's throat. The left. It felt lopsided and strange, as well as exceedingly irritating.

Blaine's body uncurled violently as he coughed, his whole frame juddering. He put his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, but it was soon forced away when another, stronger cough succeeded the first. And another. And another. Blaine hunched over miserably. He didn't want to wake up his parents, but he couldn't stop coughing. The itch was still there. Nothing Blaine could do could shift it.

As the coughs continued, Blaine realised that he had lost all control over his body. They burst out of him, one after the other. It felt like Blaine's body was attempting to cough up his stomach, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was all alone, at one o'clock in the morning, unable to get back to sleep because he felt like he was suffocating. But he couldn't stop coughing. There was no one to help him, and nothing could stop the coughs. Blaine wasn't sure that he could carry on like this much longer, but there seemed to be no possible end to the suffering. Would this continue to morning? Surely he couldn't survive that long.

'_I wish Mummy was here,' _he thought pitifully, _'she would help me. She'd stop these coughs. But she's asleep. And Daddy's asleep. And Cooper's at a friend's house.'_

Blaine started to cry. Tears poured down his face, and still the coughs continued. He began choking as he tried to sob and cough at the same time. Blaine couldn't breathe, and the panic was making his chest tighter still.

'_I'm going to die.' _Blaine was sure of it. _'Help me. Someone. Please.'_

-o-O-o-

Michelle Anderson opened her eyes and blinked blearily at her alarm clock. 1:01 AM.

'_What the…?'_

Then she became aware of a faint sound of coughing, echoing down the hallway, interposed with breathy sobs.

'_Oh Blaine…'_

He'd had that silly cough for days, and it just wouldn't go away. This, however, was the worst Michelle had ever heard it. She glanced over at David, still sleeping peacefully. That man could sleep through a hurricane. Michelle sighed, her heart a wet towel, the water being wrung out of it. Her poor little baby. She rolled carefully over to the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb her blissfully-unconscious husband, and lifted up the covers slowly. Slipping out, she padded to the door on soft, quiet feet and cracked it open.

Michelle rubbed her hand sleepily over her eyes as she stumbled along the hallway, pushing back her long, dark, sleep-mussed curls, so similar to those of her little boy's. She had to appear strong for him. The poor baby was probably panicking by now.

Hesitating outside Blaine's bedroom, Michelle fought the urge to go in and comfort him. But her comfort would be useless without a remedy for those coughs. She turned away, wincing as a particularly powerful one caused Blaine to sob louder. Moving faster now, Michelle continued on to the bathroom, where she flicked on the light and opened the medicine cabinet beneath the sink. She rifled through what seemed like endless band-aids, both in boxes and spilling out, and various half-used sheets of tablets. Then Michelle's anxious fingers came into contact with cool plastic, and she eagerly pulled out both a small bottle and a jar. Glancing hastily at their labels to check that they were, indeed, the right ones, Michelle closed the cabinet door carefully, forcing herself not to slam it quickly, and hurried out of the bathroom, slapping off the light as she went.

"Blaine, sweetheart, I'm here," she called softly, opening the door of her son's room and cautiously switching on the light, "Mummy's here."

Blaine looked tearfully up at her, then dropped his head as yet another cough shook his frail body.

"Mummy?" he choked out.

"Yes, sweetie. I'm coming. You're alright."

Blaine's sobs began to peter out as Michelle moved closer and sat down on his bed, gently smoothing his sweaty curls off his forehead so that she could lean down and kiss it gently. Blaine sniffled,

"I can't breathe, Mummy."

His words were compounded by the violent cough that followed, causing fresh tears to once more begin to swim in Blaine's eyes.

"I know, darling. But I brought some things to help. Can you be a strong little man and sit up for me?"

Blaine nodded weakly and slowly raised himself up on his elbows, but slipped back down again when he was assailed by yet another round of coughing. Michelle bit her lip and gathered him up into her arms, setting him down on her lap. Blaine was small for his age, but then, that was no surprise. Neither Michelle nor David had ever been very tall. She reached the arm that was supporting Blaine's back around and unscrewed the lid of the bottle. This was made difficult by the fact that Blaine kept shuddering with each cough, bumping, into Michelle. She finally managed it, however, and cautiously poured some of the liquid in the bottle into its cap.

"Can you drink this, Sweetheart? It's cough syrup. It will make your cough go away."

Blaine nodded again and took the cap in his tiny fingers. He paused before drinking it. It was bright orange, and didn't smell very nice. He took a sip and screwed up his nose.

"I don't like it, Mummy. It tastes yucky."

The cough syrup tasted sweet at first, but soon another, more medicinal taste took over. The manufacturers had obviously tried to disguise this latter flavour, but without much success. And it certainly didn't taste like apricots, which was what it said on the bottle.

"I know, darling, but it will help. Can you be brave and drink it?"

In answer Blaine tipped back his head and quickly swallowed the offensive liquid. Almost immediately the mosquito bite in his throat disappeared, although the heavy cat on his chest remained.

"Is that better?" Michelle asked anxiously, taking back the cap and screwing it on once more. Blaine nodded,

"Thank you, Mummy."

"That's my good boy."

Michelle smiled at Blaine and laid him back down in his bed. She kissed his cheek and said,

"I've got something for your chest, too. Lift up your pyjama top for me, sweetie."

She smeared a strong-smelling ointment on Blaine's chest, and straight away it felt to Blaine as though the cat had been lifted off, releasing him from its weight.

"What is it, Mummy?" he asked curiously.

"It's called 'Vicks VapoRub, darling. The menthol in it helps to clear your chest."

Blaine nodded sleepily, his golden eyes, framed with their long, dark lashes beginning to close. Now that the urge to cough had disappeared, Blaine found that he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was to go back to sleep.

Michelle smiled fondly at her gorgeous little boy and softly kissed his smooth, warm cheek once more. She then sat with him until he finally fell asleep, only stealing quietly back to bed when she was positive that he was peacefully slumbering.

-o-O-o-

_**20 years later...**_

Blaine rolled carefully onto his side, covering his mouth with one hand as the burning in his throat grew worse. Tears sprang to Blaine's eyes as he tried desperately to keep from coughing and waking up his sleeping husband. He extricated himself from the bed, the effort of fighting the urge to cough making him feel rather nauseous.

Blaine hastily slipped from the room, heading for the bathroom across the hallway. Once inside he firmly closed the door and started to cough, as quietly as he possibly could. It is almost impossible to cough softly, however, and Blaine did not possess any superhuman power that would have allowed him to accomplish this.

The coughs burst out of Blaine like water rushing from a crumbling dam; unstoppable, violent and LOUD.

_'Oh hell,'_ he thought, _'I hope I don't wake Kurt. But I can't stop this.'_

Blaine staggered over to the bathtub and slumped down on to the cool, hard edge. He hated this; feeling so helpless, so useless. He couldn't control his own body! Blaine couldn't stand feeling out of control. But as the coughs continued, he felt himself slipping further and further out of his depth.

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

Kurt opened the door to the bathroom, his face crinkling into a look of pain as he took in the state of his husband. Blaine tried to nod his head and smile bravely, but was interrupted by another coughing bout. Kurt shook his head in fond, wry amusement, mixed with a touch of sadness.

"You're a terrible liar, Blaine. You always have been."

He crossed to the cabinet above the sink, and, after a few seconds of messy rummaging, pulled out a bottle of cough syrup.

"Open up," He commanded sternly.

"Oh, Kurt, you know I hate the taste of that stuff," Blaine whined pathetically.

Kurt ignored Blaine's puppy dog eyes and poured some of the syrup into the bottle's lid.

"You act so much like a toddler!" Kurt sighed in mock-exasperation. Then he softened slightly as he saw the reluctance scribbled all over Blaine's face. "Come on, honey, it will make you feel better."

"Alright," Blaine acquiesced forlornly. Then a sly, teasing look crept stealthily into his eyes. This change was not missed by Kurt, who lifted one eyebrow challengly.

"What? You're planning something, I know you are," he insisted.

Blaine raised his chin commandingly, a regal image that was unfortunately shattered as more coughs once more shook his frame. They were less forceful than before, however, and thankfully didn't sound as painful. But Kurt knew that they'd be so much better if Blaine would only take the cough syrup. He grinned in amused affection, waiting for Blaine to recover enough to formulate an answer.

"I will drink that foul medicine," Blaine announced, resuming his previous majestic air, "IF you rub some Vicks into my chest for me."

The teasing light was back, and Kurt giggled,

"You, my dear sir, have got yourself a deal."

-o-O-o-

**Okay, yes, I know, that was pure fluff. But it was fun to write (and, I hope, to read.) ;) **

**I decided to write it because a) I've never really written a drabble, b) love that song, c) felt terribly guilty about not updating 'A Fateful Intervention' for SO long and d) have been stuck at home all day with a similar cough (and been woken up in the middle of the night with it, although I'm proud to say I didn't start bawling like seven year-old Blaine!) I'd also never had cough syrup before now, and just thought this idea may be interesting to write about. :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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